


the lady swan

by Lil_Redhead



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain Duckling, F/M, Lieutenant Duckling, Neverland, Season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Redhead/pseuds/Lil_Redhead
Summary: After falling through Zelena's time portal alone, Emma finds herself on Neverland, meeting the acquaintance of one Lieutenant Jones and his brother. But the time spell is torn, and Emma finds herself diving through the years, each time meeting a different version of Killian Jones. (3x21/3x22 Canon Divergence).





	1. The Swan Princess

**Author's Note:**

> This is my CSSS present to @stubble-sandwich on tumblr (and stubblesandwich on here!). Tori, it's been so great getting to know you! I hope that you enjoy what I've created for you!

Emma has to push against the sheer force of magic radiating off of the barn just to stay standing. The bright ray of orange energy erupting into the sky makes it difficult for Emma to look at it too closely without needing to shield her eyes. Killian is close beside her. He stares up at the fiery beacon with horrified eyes, the luminescence making the blues of his irises look like the storming sea at sunset. It’s a sight she just catches in the middle of all the chaos around her. If but for a moment, she pauses.  

“Whatever’s going on in there can’t be good,” Killian shouts over the roaring wind.

“It’s Zelena’s time portal. David left a message. Somehow she died and triggered it.” And Killian is right, whatever Zelena had planned for this portal isn’t some weak spell that they can easily dampen. The portal on the inside of the walls has enough raw energy to make the ground shake, and the walls of the barn rattle where they stand. 

Emma takes one last look at the tornado of orange magic bursting from the roof of the barn, then charges toward its wooden entry. A sound comes from Killian’s throat, something a bit choked and exasperated. He lunges forward, grabbing a hold of Emma’s wrist.

“Wait, we have to get out of here!” He practically begs her, but they both know that if she wants to tear her way into that barn one board of wood at a time, he’ll be completely powerless to stop her. 

“Not until we find a way to close it,” she answers, yanking her hand back. 

“Do you have your magic back?”

“No.” Admitting it comes as a quick, reflexive response, but hearing her own voice say it tightens her chest. They both know without her magic, whatever this portal has in store for them is probably too large of a battle until they can find a way to fight back properly.

“Then we’re not bloody well messing with any of this, let’s go!” 

Just as Emma’s about to consider changing her mind, the barn door slams opens, tearing away at the hinges. As where the magic had been forceful, like an invisible wall of energy pushing against her chest, the open doors release a wave of force that grabs hold of them and pulls them onto the ground with a harsh _thud._  

She catches the quick peek of the portal, a swirling whirlpool of hot orange in the middle of the ground, before she is rolled onto her stomach and dragged toward its opening. Clawing at anything her fingers can grasp, Emma’s fingers reach into nothing but dust, until she latches onto Hook’s jacket cuff. The extra weight makes them shoot towards the portal faster, but Killian is fast too. He swings his arm behind him and drives his hook into the ground. 

The hook is enough to keep Killian from falling into the portal, but he can feel Emma slipping away, the pull of the magic too strong for her shaky hands. 

“Hold on!” he cries. All he has to do is reach down his hand and pull her up before - 

But he isn’t fast enough. He hears the fabric of his cuff tearing at the seams, and before he can process what’s happening, it rips away, sending Emma flying with it.

“ _Emma!_ ” Killian’s bellow is the last thing she hears as her body plummets into the open mouth of Zelena’s portal. The inside of the portal is like a tunnel, with walls of fire and energy. Its opening portal becomes further and further away with each lightning fast moment.

And just before it closes behind her, she sees Killian reaching headfirst out to her. Her name on his lips, his eyes filled with a horror that she’s never seen on him before.

Just as she’s about to call out to him, the portal closes.

 

///

 

Killian kneels before the stone tiles where the portal used to be. He can’t hear his own breathing coming out in short, shallow gasps over the roaring in his ears. Hand and hook pound on stonework, leaving gashes on the slate and tiny scratches on his hand.

He simply can not believe it. Emma is gone. She’d fallen through the portal to gods know where without any magic. It had happened on his watch, too. If he was faster, wiser maybe, he could have saved her but now she is somewhere probably not even the Dark One can find her. 

Covering his face with his hand, Killian gives up. His forehead meets the dirty ground, and like a wave washing over him, he feels the agonizing clutch of failure that he last felt when Milah died.

“Damn it!” he screams, smacking his fist onto the ground.

Killian has learned never to doubt Emma Swan, and he knows that if there’s anyone that can save herself from wherever the portal sent her, it’s her.

He just needs to trust her.

 

///

 

Somewhere in her plummet from the opening of the portal to her destination, Emma blacks out. She can feel it before it hits her, a dizzying feeling that settles behind her eyes and makes her vision blur. In the time she spends freefalling, Emma feels absolutely weightless and free, if not a bit terrified for landing. In her thoughts, she sees her son’s smile, the delighted crinkle in the corner of her father’s eyelashes, the absolute adoration Hook has in his eyes whenever he looks at her. It lulls her to sleep.

She wakes up when her body makes impact with something gritty and wet. She lands in the sea with a huge _splash,_ the force of it fires her body rolling until she reaches the dry shore. She recognizes the feeling of her surroundings before she even opens her eyes. She had only ever been one place that felt equal parts hot, humid, and eerie.

Neverland.

Propping herself onto an elbow, Emma opens her eyes and finds herself on the beaches of her least favorite vacation destination. The jungles look as though they have not aged a day, the ocean still an enchanting shade of cerulean blue. Her skin is already sticky with a familiar feeling of sweat.

God, she had just managed to escape this place and now she was right back after only a year of having been away. But why? Why would Zelena’s time portal send her to a completely different realm? Wasn’t the whole purpose of this portal to go back in time?

Maybe she had. With a sharp survey around her, Emma looks for anything out of the ordinary. All she finds is an abandoned rowboat and some ship floating offshore at a close distance.

Wait...ship?

Emma rises from the sand on shaky legs, and practically sprints to the water’s edge to get a closer look at the vessel. She has only ever known one group of sailors to have traveled to Neverland. Sure enough, the gold and blue details are a dead giveaway. _The Jolly Roger._ Her anchor is dropped, and Emma can just make out some crewmen pacing around aboard deck.

The nearby rowboat means that Hook is somewhere on this island, and maybe if she tracks him down, she can find a way off of the island with him.

Before heading blindly into the jungle, though, Emma sifts through the rowboat’s supplies, finding  a leather satchel with a change of clothes, a small knife, and an extra canteen. She changes from her wet modern clothes and stuffs them in the bag. She’s surprised to see that rather than the black leather pants and dark cotton shirt she expected, the change of clothes is actually something that looks more like a uniform. Emma has to knot the edges of the shirt to make it fit and roll the waist of the pants to keep them up, but they’re comfortable enough.

With a deep breath, Emma summons every ounce of courage she has left in her tired body, and moves toward the jungle.

People are not the only ones that do not age in Neverland. The layout of the island feels exactly the same as when she left it, from each tree rooted in the ground to the vines swaying in the humid breeze. But the most unsettling detail is still the resounding cries of the Lost Ones that echo off of every surface in the forest, making their wails and moans inescapable. It’s enough to make Emma reach into the satchel and grip her small knife.

She sifts through the jungle for what seems like hours, not finding even a trace of human life. She begins to wonder if the portal has moved her back in time at all, and if that means that Pan will be here. She has not seen any trace of him, his Lost Boys, or Killian, and is almost about to give up when she hears a familiar voice.

“Brother, I just think that perhaps we should consider what that boy said without jumping blindly into the king’s mission. He seemed to be telling the truth.”

It’s definitely Killian. He sounds a bit younger somehow, a little less rough around the edges. But if he’s talking to his brother, then does that mean that-

“Killian, please do not seriously look me in the eyes and tell me that you’re willing to trust a miscreant boy more than the king you’ve sworn fealty too.”

The second voice isn’t one Emma recognizes, though she’s willing to bet that it belongs to Liam Jones. This, of course, brings mixed feelings. Part of her is relieved that she’s finally found Hook after hours of searching in a treacherous jungle, but then again, is it really Hook? The other part of her is absolutely terrified to confront this young Killian Jones, because that would mean admitting that she’d fallen nearly two hundred years in the past.

Their voices grow nearer, and Emma realizes she has two options. She can stay, and introduce herself immediately, or she can take her chances and wait a day or so before making herself known. When the bushes begin to rustle behind her, she looks up, seeing a low branch just within reach. In record time, she’s leaping into the air, pulling herself up, then climbing to higher branches. She’s just out of sight when the two men come into view.

“Did you hear something?” Liam asks. The men stop to listen. Emma presses herself against the trunk of the tree, holding her breath deep within her chest.

“You must be hearing those damned children again,” Killian reasons. Liam doesn’t seem convinced, but he simply nods warily and keeps walking.

They’re soon out of sight, but Emma is still frozen in the tree. She should probably be following them, because who knows when she’ll run into them again. But she also needs a plan. She hardly expects poor, inexperienced Killian to know much about magic, so explaining that she _fell back in time_ probably is not the best approach. From what she already knows about Liam, he’ll be even less trusting than Killian. It’ll take a good story to convince them to help her.  

Instead of following them on foot, Emma realizes that she’ll be able to move much more soundlessly by moving tree to tree. She looks a little ridiculous, swinging tree to tree like Tarzan’s Jane, but it allows her to keep up the pace, following behind the men as they bicker through the paths of Neverland.

“I hate arguing with you, Liam, but-”

“Well then don’t argue with me!” Liam interrupts.

“ _But,_ I have a bad feeling about this Dreamshade. Perhaps we should seek out more information before we begin to collect it.”

Emma watches as Liam stops, and places a halting hand on Killian’s chest. Now that she’s a bit closer, she can make out the details of his appearance. The most notable difference is that his hair is significantly longer, pulled back into a ponytail at the bottom of his head. His eyes aren’t lined with their usual kohl, and instead of black leather, he wears the same type of white shirt and pants that she does.

She was right in thinking that she wouldn’t be dealing with Captain Hook. The Killian below her now is in fact Lieutenant Killian Jones, a distant figure she hardly believed ever once existed.  Emma recalls how Killian only became Hook after his brother died from -

_Dreamshade poisoning._  

Well, god damn it. Emma suddenly realizes exactly where in time she is, and desperately wishes to be anywhere else, anytime else.

She doesn’t want to be in Neverland when Liam Jones died. She doesn’t want to see Killian completely crumble apart. For a moment, Emma wonders if perhaps she might be able to save Liam. But then, what would that mean for the Killian that she left behind?

Emma follows Killian and Liam until they settle at their camp. Killian releases his hair from its cotton ribbon, dark locks falling around his shoulders. He watches with adoration as Liam skillfully builds them a fire.

“You’re quiet,” the elder brother comments. “Does that mean you’re finished questioning my authority for the day?”

“I would never question your authority, brother.” Killian leans onto a fallen log and moves all of his hair to one side. “I simply wish that we had been given more details about this mission.”

“We’ve been given enough. The king told me, his loyal captain, all I needed to know, and now we must put our trust in him for the rest.”

Sitting on the tree is becoming more uncomfortable by the second, so Emma shifts onto her stomach, lying on the branch, peering down onto the naval officers. It’s sends a sick feeling in her stomach to listen to Liam and Killian dispute over the Dreamshade, especially since hindsight tells her exactly how this story ends.

Thankfully, the sun begins to set, and the sailors decide to stay at camp for the night. Emma runs dozens of possible plans through her head as Killian and his brother go through their nightly routine. She can stay here in this tree and stow herself away on the _Jolly_ when Killian sets sail, but she also can guess the types of things the Royal Navy will do to stowaways, especially royal navy sailors shipping back a sensitive, deadly poison. Hovering above Killian on this uncomfortable tree has helped her decide one thing, she wants to make herself known sooner than later. It’ll look too suspicious if she’s caught spying on them. Until she can make a sound decision, she simply waits.

The night air settles over the jungle, dew forming on the leafy greenery. Emma herself is feeling the inevitable chill of the breezy evening, and rolls down her sleeves to cover herself.

“I cannot help but feel as if someone is watching us,” Killian says, wrapped in a cotton blanket. Liam lays on his own patch of leaves, arms behind his head. He doesn’t open his eyes to look at his brother.

“I’m sure someone is. This is a strange, unpredictable island.”

Killian scoffs.

“I don’t know how that is supposed to help me sleep better.”

“After what we’ve been through over the last day, I can sleep for weeks. Relax, little brother. No harm will come to us here.”

Emma wants to laugh. It’s obvious Liam really doesn’t know who he’s dealing with yet here in Neverland. Grimly, she realizes it will be his fatal flaw. She’s the only one that knows what will happen, save for Pan - who is most likely very aware of what will occur - and she’s the only one that can save Liam. His voice interrupts Emma from spiraling into a thread of stressful thoughts.

“Not everything here is bad, though.”

“Now that I have trouble believing.” Killian sits up, and puts his hands towards the fire. Emma’s never seen him with both hands, and for a second, she almost doesn’t notice it.

“I remember years ago, you were very young, I heard some of the men on Silver’s ship talking of this island and the beautiful goddess that resides here.”

“Goddess? Here in Neverland? Those men spent too much time by the rum barrels.”

“Oh, hush now, Killy. Let me tell you a story like old times.” Liam joins Killian by the fire.

“I’m nearly twenty-three,” Killian protests, though his voice cracks in the middle of the sentence. Emma cannot help but smile. The Killian she knows is all man. Every ounce of him is made of maturity, a thickness formed by years of hardening experiences. She hardly believes this naive sailor is really Killian.  

“Yes, a nearly twenty-three year old lieutenant who still cannot sleep in unfamiliar places. Now let me tell you the bloody story.” Killian makes no arguments.  “It is said that the goddess of this island is actually cursed. Men who have seen her say that she shines as vibrantly as the moon with hair of spun gold. She can make any man’s knees turn to sand at the sight of her.”

“This sounds like a sailor’s lustful daydream.”

“When this island was first created, she was the one who arranged the stars in the sky. They call her the Swan Princess, because during the daylight hours, she takes the form of a graceful swan. It is only at night that she can show her human-like shape.”

Emma bites her lip, not failing to recognize how much this story sounds like a certain ballet, or how much its protagonist reminds her of herself.

“The princess wishes to leave the island, to be a human forever, but is cursed to live in Neverland for eternity. But because she is a kind, compassionate soul, she has dedicated her existence to helping sailors leave before they too are cursed,” Liam continues.

“Why are you telling me this story, Liam?” Killian’s eyes catch glints of fiery glow, the same way they did right before Emma and the real Killian were separated. The quick memory of her real life is jolting, and she remembers she has a plan to fulfill. She can’t wait around forever, listening to Liam’s fairytales, especially since he isn’t going to be around for even a day or so more.

“I think that somewhere on this island, the princess is watching us. She will bless us, help us on our mission, and blow the winds so that we can get home safely.”

Emma feels her throat choke up. She wishes she could be the Swan Princess for these sailors, but it’s them that will need to save her, not the other way around.

“Now go to sleep little brother,” Liam says quietly.

“Younger brother,” Killian murmurs, covering himself with his blanket and burrowing into his bed of leaves.

“Good night, Killian.”

“Good night, Liam.”

 

///

 

Emma waits until she is sure that both men are asleep, then grips onto a vine and lowers herself down as quietly as she can. Now that the diligent sailors lay sleeping, Emma can find some food and relieve herself without fearing that they’ll move. Thanks to her last trip to Neverland, Emma knows exactly what types of berries and nuts she can eat, and which to avoid.

She can still taste the earthy twang of tree nuts as she comes back toward the camp, using a nearby river as her guide. The surface of the stream’s water glistens and glows, reflections of stars lighting up its slow current. It appears enchanted somehow. She knows that it will soon lead to a small waterfall, and if she can make it around it, she’ll find Killian’s camp.

Looking down over the waterfall, Emma notices sprite-like creatures dancing under the river’s glowing water, a carefree reverie she did not originally know could exist in such a place as Neverland. With deliberate steps, Emma climbs down the edge of the waterfall, careful not to make much noise.

She’s nearly reached the bottom when she hears a twig cracking in the forest behind her. Emma jolts. Her foot steps down onto a slippery rock, and then she’s tumbling into the lake with a yelp. For a moment, she swears there is pain in her ankle, and along her legs, but the second her skin touches the water, it’s gone.

The lake at the bottom of the waterfall is not as deep as she anticipated, and she easily stands up, trying to get out of the lagoon before Killian or Liam wake up, but it’s too late.

“I told you I felt something nearby,” she hears Killian say anxiously.

Emma panics. There’s no way she’ll be able to get out of this pond in time before Killian finds her. _And_ she’s got his clothes and satchel on, which she stole. She looks down at herself, wondering if she should grab a breath of air and hide underwater, but she sees something that makes her hesitate.

What the hell? She _was_ wearing Killian’s clothes, but the water seems to be slowly transforming the nasty cotton rags into a glimmering chiffon dress. Maybe her fairy godmother was nearby or something, because this hadn’t happened when she bathed in Neverland’s lakes before.

When she looks up from the dress, she gasps. Killian is standing before her, eyes glued to her, jaw dropped to the ground.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters to himself, and Emma realizes he probably saw her sudden transformation too, at least the finishing details.  

For a moment, they cannot tear their eyes away from one another. Emma is frozen under his gaze. The way he looks at her is light, the way a sailor peers up at the stars from his quiet deck. Equal parts awed by her beauty and struck by her sudden appearance. He’s different, but somehow still the same. The man before her is someone she doesn’t know, with his long hair, left hand, and adventurous eyes. But the way he stares at her, it’s the same as it has always been.

Emma has never believed in love at first sight, but she wonders if maybe this Killian does right at this moment.  As if waking from a stupor, he jolts, then drops to his knee.

“Your Highness! My apologies,” he sputters breathlessly. Emma’s eyes widen.

“What gives you the idea that I’m royalty?” she answers. How could this man possibly know that she’s a princess nearly a hundred years in the future? 

“You’re the Swan Princess, aren’t you? The ruler of this island? My brother just told me the tale, and admittedly I did not believe it at first, but after seeing you, I find it’s so far fetched. And you’re so...” He takes a deep breath. “ _Beautiful.”_

It’s probably his own shock talking, but Emma senses no lie in what he has said.  As he waits for her to respond, she realizes that this encounter has changed her plans significantly, but if she’s lucky, maybe in a good way. Before, she would’ve had to try to gain Killian’s trust as a stranger on this island, but he believes her to be the princess. He’ll definitely do anything she asks him to do.

Maybe she should avoid him, turn away now before he can learn her face to deeply. After all, she has no magic to erase his memories with. The future hasn’t imploded yet, though, so she nods.

“You’re very perceptive,” she says back, placing a smile on her lips that she hopes looks like her mother’s smile. Regal and graceful. Killian blushes under the compliment and begins to fumble with his hands.

“No one has ever told me that before, highness, but thank you kindly!”

“Brother, who are you babbling...to...” Liam Jones pushes his way through the bushes and stops talking the minute he lays on Emma.

“You must be this dutiful lieutenant’s captain and brother.” Emma takes a few steps forward, allowing the men to help lift her from the water.

“I didn’t tell her that!” Killian whispers harshly to his brother, absolutely shocked.

“Aye ma’am,” Liam answers, straightening out his shirt. “Captain Liam Jones of his highness’ Royal Navy. And you are?”

“Brother!” Killian scolds through his teeth. “This is the Swan Princess you’ve told me of.”

Liam falls to his knee, bowing his head in respect.

“Apologies, highness.” Emma can’t help but chuckle.

“At ease, sailor. I didn’t mean to wake you both. I simply...” Emma trails off. She never had been very good at this acting thing. What does she mean to do here?

“Do you need some help, princess?” Killian offers, catching hints of her shyness. She wasn’t kidding, he _is_ perceptive. “Perhaps my brother and I can assist you.”

“I would hate to impose.”

“It would be no imposition at all! Perhaps in return you can help my brother and I find what it is we came for.” Ah, the dreamshade, Emma remembers. She isn’t entirely sure she wants to help them find what they’re looking for.

“Why don’t we sit and talk? We don’t have many more hours of nighttime,” Liam suggests.

Emma hesitates. What does it matter that they talk in the nighttime hours? Then she remembers she’s supposed to turn into a _Swan_ when the sun rises.

“I would appreciate that greatly,” Emma says, just barely sounding convincing.

“Follow me, highness. We’ve got a fire going. You can dry off.”

Emma takes a deep breath, braces herself, and trails behind them. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll be able to make it home back to her family. First things first, though.

She needs to get off this damn island.

 


	2. The Dread Pirate Jones

The warmth of the campfire is comforting on Emma’s fingertips. Her knee bounces in comfortless tension. She can feel the way Killian watches her, the way a man looks at a beautiful treasure he’s never seen before and can’t wait to finally have in his hands. It’s not much different than the way he typically looks at her, but feeling it again after having he’d been quiet about his feelings for so long is a bit overwhelming. 

“So, what can we help you with?” Liam asks, frying up a fish for her to eat. 

“I assume you know of my curse, being unable to leave Neverland,” Emma answers, playing along. 

“Are you looking for help with breaking that curse?” Killian speaks this time, leaning forward to examine her face a bit closer. 

“No, no. See, that’s the thing. I was able to break it myself through...” Emma struggles for a moment. “A deal that I made with the ruler of this island. He’d rather have me gone than helping sailors leave.” 

“Who? That boy?” Liam scoffs. Emma cannot help but feel as though Pan is watching them. She can sense his eyes in the trees, through the vines, dripping from the humidity. He’s out there, and she’d rather not provoke him. 

“He’s not one to be trifled with,” Emma answers. “Take it from someone who knows from experience.” 

“Well if your curse is broken, then what’s keeping you here?” 

“I just need a ride home back to Misthaven.” She doubts that  _ The Jolly Roger -  _ or is it  _ The Jewel of the Realm? -  _ can cross realms back to her world. And even then, if she were to make it back to the world without magic, then what? She’d be trapped in 1800s Maine with no magic and no way of traveling through time. She needs to find the help of someone powerful, but the only other person who would be alive right now would be...the Dark One? 

Is Rumplestiltskin even the Dark One yet? If she recalls correctly, Killian once told her that Gold wasn’t the Dark One until  _ after  _ Hook began his affair with Milah. 

That left her with no one. 

For a brief minute she considers just staying here this time, taking the easy way out. Her parents would still have their Emma, that Emma would meet Neal, have Henry...But it’s too risky. Messing with Killian’s timeline could mean that the future Emma doesn’t successfully find the compass and make it back home. And if she does make it back home, who would help her get to Neverland to save Henry before it’s too late?   


Emma’s eyes snap up to Killian. Before that moment, she had not realized how important this man was to her family’s happiness. If she changes it too much, she could not only ruin his life, but the lives of her family. 

“Princess?” Killian asks carefully. “You’re looking at me curiously, is everything alright?”

“Sorry, did you say something? Got lost in my own thoughts.” 

“I said that we can unquestionably bring you home with us. I think our king would be excited to meet the mythical Swan Princess.” 

“I’m hardly a myth,” Emma says a bit shyly.  _ I’m hardly even a princess.  _ “But I really would appreciate it, thank you!” 

“It’s our honor to help you,” Liam says. “Perhaps you might be some assistance to us.”

Emma’s lips rise in a slow smile. She feels like falling forward and letting the relief just wash over her, but instead she straightens her back and nods. Her heart is still expecting Liam to ask the question why a mythical goddess cannot transport herself off an island, but if he’s wondering, he doesn’t ask. 

“I’ll repay you in any way I can. You said you needed some information?” 

“Aye,” Killian confirms, his accent a familiar sound to her ears. He pulls an old piece of parchment from his sack and hands it to her. “We’re on a quest for our king looking for that plant. Do you know anything about it?” 

It’s definitely dreamshade. The picture is a colored depiction of the plant’s roots, thick and light green, but it’s the drawing of the leafed plant that confirms to Emma that she knows what it is. It’s actually more thick branches and poisonous thorns, rather than a leafy bush. 

It’s the moment of truth. If Emma is going to save Liam, it needs to happen right now. He might not trust Killian’s better judgement, but she’s sure he’ll listen to a goddess who supposedly has lived on the island for hundreds of years. 

But if she saves Liam now, will Killian ever become Hook? Will he meet Milah? Meet her? 

Maybe his life would be better with Liam in it. Maybe Killian would meet a nice girl, settle down. It certainly would remove over a hundred years of a thirst for vengeance. Maybe he’d be happier that way. 

Her heart races. She doesn’t want to be in this position.

In the end, she pulls together all her willpower and shrugs.

“That’s Dreamshade. The stuff’s everywhere.” 

“It shouldn’t be too hard to find, then?” 

Emma’s insides twist, her brain delivering its loud, familiar warning to  _ Run away!  _ But she tells him as much truth as she can. 

“You should be able to find it without needing to journey into the jungle much.” She hesitates, then adds, “It’s sharp. Be careful collecting it.” 

Reaching over to Killian, she hands him back the drawing, unable to look at it anymore. 

“The boy, Pan, he says that the plant is poisonous. That it’s doom.” 

Emma hopes they can’t see the way the guilt is painted across her face, with her averted gaze and lip stuck firmly between her teeth. 

“I can’t say I know. Pan is known for his tricks, but even he must tell the truth sometimes. His warning could be either.” 

Killian and Liam exchange a glance. It seems to be in their own secret language, a silent understanding between them both that Emma isn’t in on. 

“Well now that we’ve got that all figured out, perhaps Killian and I should get some rest. We’ve a big day tomorrow if we want to collect the dreamshade and leave this cursed island. Will you meet us here by the evening tide around sunset?” 

_ Us.  _ Emma knows that at this time tomorrow, there won’t be an  _ us.  _ There will be a Killian Jones, and an Emma Swan, but Liam will be gone. But it’s necessary. 

Even if Hook ends up hating her for it. 

“By your rowboat at the shore,” Emma confirms. 

Liam says his goodnights, then relaxes back onto his leafy bed. Killian remains sitting upright. 

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?” she asks when Liam’s breathing evens out. Emma doesn’t know this young Killian. She might be able to predict the behavior of the Hook back home, but this straight-laced naval officer is entirely new territory. 

“I should be resting,” he says in a low, quiet voice. “But I can’t shake the feeling that something will go wrong.” 

“Your brother appears to be a very capable man,” Emma reasons, but her heart isn’t in it. 

“He’s the most capable man I’ve ever met. He’s just so...bloody stubborn sometimes.” 

_ It must run in the family,  _ she wants to say, but she only nods. She rises to her feet, and motions for him to follow her. She leads him to the waterfall, the water glistening even brighter in the dark night.  She lifts her skirt just above her knees, and dips in her feet. Beside her, Killian rolls up his pant legs and drops his feet beside hers. The silence is heavy, but it’s comfortable, like a warm embrace or sleeping under a dozen blankets on a cold night. 

“This is the furthest away I’ve ever been from home,” Killian comments. 

“Well you  _ are  _ in another realm. Besides, I thought sailors didn’t have a home.” 

Killian considers this, narrowing his eyes at the ebbing pool. He pokes a finger into the water and swirls it aimlessly. 

“I suppose you’re right. As long as I sail on the  _ Jewel,  _ I think I’ll get as close as I’ll ever get to home.” 

Emma’s mind flashes back to the last conversation she had with Hook. 

“Home is the place that when you’re gone, you just miss it,” she recalls outloud. Killian nods in understanding. 

“What about you? Where’s your home?” he asks her, sounding a bit anxious to change the subject. 

“Somewhere far from here, I doubt you’ve ever heard of it.” 

“I’ve spent all my life on the sea, Highness. I’ve been many places.” Killian shifts just a bit closer. He looks at her the same way he always does, with a heavy stare that creates tangible tension in the air and makes her want to kiss him all over again. 

For a moment she considers telling him the name of her home, but the less details she discloses the better chance she has of returning home to a completely normal Hook. 

“Perhaps you’ve traveled there then,” and Killian’s expression falls just barely. He knows he isn’t going to get an exact answer from her. For a moment, Emma thinks he’s about to inch away from her, create distance between them. 

Instead, he takes a risk.

“Perhaps we’ll meet again someday.” His smile is so hopeful. She smiles so long at her that she’s able to memorize the way it looks, from the rise of color in his cheeks to the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. 

“Of that, Lieutenant, I am sure.” Killian bites his lip to hide how his smile gets even wider. 

She should not be doing this, flirting with a man that isn’t going to see her for another few hundred years, but the blues his of eyes are so hypnotizing and the low timbre of his voice sends chills down her spine. She supposes it has always been this way with Killian, but having time to be aware of the way he makes her heart pound brings entirely new feelings all together.  

Part of her wants to kiss him as a thank you for being here at the right time, even though she’s fairly certain  _ he’s  _ the reason she’s here to begin with. If he hadn’t been the last thing she saw, the last thing she thought of as she fell through that portal, she might’ve landed somewhere different. But if she has to be anywhere with anyone, she’s glad it’s here with him.

Of course, the other part of her wants to kiss him as an apology. She knows Liam is going to die, and it’s the last thing both Jones brothers are expecting. If there was another way...

And the last fraction of her doesn’t want to kiss him, doesn’t want to admit how badly she needs him. She’s moving away when she gets back home, after all. 

The thoughts running through Killian’s head are a mix of completely transparent and hardly understandable at all. One thing is sure. He wants to kiss her, and when he starts to lean his head in, Emma cannot help but feel a bit of pull to meet him halfway. 

“It feels like I know you,” he confesses, nudging his nose against hers. Emma can’t fight back a smile. 

“You do.” 

“Just who are you then, princess?” 

Emma is taken back to this same jungle where Killian looked at her with those same eyes and asked her that same question. It’s a harsh reminder, that this man before her, real as he is, isn’t  _ her  _ Killian. The chemistry that sparks between the two of them is the same chemistry that has always been there. She can’t lose herself to it. 

Like flipping a switch, Emma pulls away. Killian’s reaction is immediate, his face dropping, his back straightening. He shuffles back to give her some space, but she’s already lifting her legs out of the water and turning away. 

“I’m sorry, your Highness,” he mumbles hardly loud enough to hear him over the flow of the waterfall. Any trace of  _ her  _ Killian is gone, and back is the straight-laced lieutenant too upright to do anything other than follow his given orders. But the rejection is clear on his face, the way he looks like he wants to curl into himself. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Emma responds gently. The muscles in his jaw clench. He refuses to make eye contact with her. She steps over to him, squats down to his level, and gives his cheek a gentle caress with her fingers. 

“Get some sleep, lieutenant. No harm will come over you tonight.” Without saying a word, he nods. If only a second, he meets her gaze, like trying to convey what propriety has forbidden him from saying. But the message is lost to Emma. 

Then he rises to his feet, rolls down his pant legs, and leaves her alone with only the sound of the Lost Ones crying in the distance.

 

///

 

Liam and Killian are packed up and gone by the time Emma returns to the camp. Their fire still burns with low embers, the last traces of smoke rising into the morning air. A sick feeling settles in her stomach. She wonders if Liam is injecting himself with the dreamshade at this very moment. 

Both men come marching out of the jungle to find Emma sitting in the sand with her back leaning against their rowboat. At first, she doesn’t notice them, lost in her thoughts with her eyes fixed on the  _ Jewel  _ anchored offshore. 

“The boy was right,” Liam calls out to her. Emma’s head snaps up. Killian has his arm slung around his brother’s shoulders, the elder of the two walking somewhat slower than usual. “The Dreamshade is poison. We’ll be sailing without it.” 

The sunlight catches a flicker of Liam’s raw flesh, a new scar that has been healed on his forearm . 

“How did you find that out?” she asks them. It kills her too. She knows exactly how they discovered it. Exactly what will happen as soon as the ship leaves Neverland’s premises. The brothers exchange another look in their secret language. 

“It matters not,” Killian avoids. He reaches down a hand, an act of mechanic chivalry and nothing more. “Is there anything you need from the island before we leave?” 

Emma shakes her head. 

“The sooner we get away from this island, the better.” 

“I agree,” Liam cuts in. He sweeps his hand toward the rowboat. “Everyone in!” 

The men insist on rowing themselves so that Emma can, “appreciate the journey to the ship.” The only thing she has eyes to appreciate is Killian rolling up his sleeves, pulling his hair back into his navy ponytail. Emma tries not to stare at the muscles in his arms contracting with each row. Her eyes rise to his face, to see that he’s watching her just as hard. Through the deep breaths and strained grunts the rowing brings, Killian examines her, only this time, not in adoration, but more like she’s a snake waiting to attack. 

“Ah, the  _ Jewel  _ looks so lovely tonight,” Liam comments. His ship - she’ll be Killian’s ship soon - truly is a marvel. From so far away, Emma hasn’t had the chance to really admire her details. The  _ Jolly Roger  _ shows the same age and maturity that pirate Killian does, but the  _ Jewel  _ is so shiny and new. 

“How did you become Captain?” Emma asks curiously.

“That, Highness, is a story for another night.” Her heart tightens. 

“What if we don’t have another night?” Liam raises an eyebrow. Maybe something in her tone gave her away, but his suspicion has been piqued.

“Do you know something we don’t, princess?” Killian asks a bit sharply. Liam shoots him a stern look. Emma wonders if Liam knows about what almost happened with her and Killian the night before. If he knows, he doesn’t say anything.

“If I knew anything that would help you, believe me, I would tell you.” Killian isn’t convinced. Emma sends him a look that says  _ Challenge me, I dare you.  _ He doesn’t. He simply straightens his back, schools his features, and continues rowing. He’s silent for a moment, but whatever he’s thinking changes his mind. 

“Liam almost died today,” he explains. “That’s why I’m a bit...fractious.”

“Killian,” his brother scolds. 

“She deserves to know.” 

“With all due respect your Highness,” Liam says as an aside to Emma, before turning back to his brother, “she doesn’t deserve to know anything.” Killian is about to argue back, but a call from the deck of the  _ Jewel  _ interrupts them before the conversation can spiral into dangerous territory. 

The ship is alive with action. Men all in the same navy blue uniform are working, preparing the ship for the journey home. She makes it aboard just in time to see the unfurling of a sail made completely of glittering feathers. Painted on it is a lose depiction of a pegasus. It’s probably how the ship will fly home. 

As soon as the captain is aboard deck, Emma requests to retire to her temporary quarters - the lieutenant’s. Killian doesn’t argue. He simply slips below deck claiming he needs to tidy the space up so that it’s “lady appropriate.” 

The lieutenant’s quarters are a bit smaller than the captain’s quarters. Emma feels the walls beginning to close in on her, inch by inch, aching to crush her. What was she thinking, pretending to be a goddess? And if she makes it back to Misthaven without much trouble, then what? 

Honestly, she doesn’t know. 

It feels like an airplane lifting off, the way the  _ Jewel of the Realm  _ rises from the sea and soars towards the billowing clouds. From her window, she can see Neverland disappearing into nothingness as it becomes further and further away. With any luck, she won’t find herself back on the island ever again. 

Through the thin walls of the ship, Emma can just barely hear the incoherent discussion between Captain and Lieutenant, mentor and pupil, brother and brother. 

She waits. 

She waits, and waits, and  _ waits,  _ but hears nothing. When Killian told her the story of his brother’s death, he wasn’t very specific on how long it took. The further the distance grows between the ship and the island, the surer Emma is that something is going to occur. But there’s nothing. The men continue talking without interruption. 

Perhaps there was nothing to worry about, then. Maybe Liam will live after all. 

The ship hits the water with a massive splash, bursts of water spraying up along the side of the ship. They’ve officially made it out of Neverland. Emma is about to laugh in relief when she hears it, a harsh crashing sound. 

Her heart stops in her chest. 

“Help!” Killian screams. “ _ Help!”  _

Emma’s own tears surprise her. They gather in her eyes, pooling along her lids. A cry forms in her throat, threatening to be released, so Emma covers her mouth and backs up against the wall of the cabin. Men from aboard deck rush to help Killian, screaming that something happened to the captain and  _ He was fine for hours, what happened while you were on Neverland?  _ and  _ Lieutenant, what happened?  _

And,  _ I’m sorry Lieutenant, but he’s gone. We’ve done all we can.  _

At that, Killian forces everyone out of his cabin, and it suddenly becomes very quiet. The  _ Jewel  _ rocks a soothing sway on the ocean, as if trying to comfort the mourning crew, the mourning brother. 

But the silence is broken by an agonized wail, the raw type of weeping that builds in your chest like tension and is released like a breaking dam. It shakes Emma through her spine all the way down to her toes. 

She did this. Maybe she isn’t the one who stuck the thorn right in Liam’s arm, but she could have stopped this. Officially, permanently damning Killian to a life of loneliness and anger feels more painful than she could have anticipated. 

_ And the award for “worst friend” goes to... _

It’s how she ends up in front of his door with tear covered cheeks, a fist hovering over the door ready to knock. She gives it three gentle raps. The crying behind the door stops just long enough for Killian to yell.

“Leave me alone!” 

“Lieutenant, it’s me,” Emma says gently. At first, he doesn’t respond. Then, Emma hears the rustling of shifting around, slow and deliberate. When he opens the door to let her in, the sight of him brings tears back to her eyes.

His hair is an absolute wreck, and his eyes that normally sparkle with stardust are hazy with the aftermath of a thousand hurricanes. They’re red around the edges, and the streaks of tears fall across his cheeks like their own constellations. 

His lips part to say something, but his mind hasn’t decided on the right words. There are none. What can he say? Nothing that Emma doesn’t already know. She opens her arms, and within seconds, he collapses into them. His grip clasps her dress so tightly that his fingers shake, white at the knuckles. 

Emma leads Killian into the Captain’s quarters, and sits him on the cot. A sob escapes his lips as he drops his forehead onto her shoulder. She does all she can, running her fingers through his hair and down his back in gentle strokes. 

“I’m sorry, Killian,” she says.  _ I’m sorry for not saving him, I’m sorry for what’s going to happen to you, I’m sorry that there’s no going back from this.  _

“Did they tell you?” he asks, voice rough from the his weeping. She shakes her head. Killian shifts back just enough to meet her gaze. 

“How did you know?” 

Emma’s body stiffens. Guilt flashes on her face quick enough for Killian to detect it. He seems confused for a moment, but then his earlier words hang heavy in the air.  _ Do you know something we don’t, Princess?  _  His own expression spins through a range of emotions, one after another. Disbelief, horror, shock, pain, anger. 

“Did you  _ know?  _ Before it happened?” His voice spits daggers at her, driving a hot flash of pain through her chest. His eyes match that fire, wide and wild. Emma doesn’t know if she’s ever witnessed him so enraged. “You knew the bloody dreamshade was poison, didn’t you?”

“Killian,” Emma answers, but her voice trails off. What is she supposed to tell him? She’s wracking her brain, searching for anything to say, when he draws his sword and points it between her breasts. She breathes out his name once more, this time stunned. 

“That’s Lieutenant Jones to you.” For the first time since she’s met this new Killian, she feels caught in the middle of a storm, barely able to keep her ship afloat. One wrong move could end her life. “Now answer my questions, or we’ll being raising the death count to two.” 

“Alright,” Emma agrees, lifting her arms in surrender. With Killian this angry, she knows there’s no point in trying to reason with him. She just needs to do what he wants. “Ask anything.” 

“You’re not really the Swan Princess, are you?”  

“No. My name  _ is _ Swan and I  _ am  _ a Princess, just not the one you thought I was.” The point of his blade digs deeper into her chest. 

“Did you know that Liam was going to die?” The answer to this question is only one word, one syllable, one affirmation, but it’s locked away where Emma can’t speak it. “Answer me!”

“Yes,” she stutters. The betrayal is written on his face as clearly as words are printed on a paper. 

“How long?” 

“Killian, let me explain,” she begs.

“How long?!” he repeats, stepping closer to lift the blade to her throat. 

“Since before I met you.” Killian nearly drops the sword, his eyes widening in the darkening cabin. 

“Explain yourself,” he demands. “Just who are you?” 

Emma doesn’t have much time to decide what to say. She could take her chances lying again, but if the truth slips, she’s sure Killian wouldn’t hesitate to run her through. But if she tells him the truth, will he even believe her? In either situation, there’s no way to gain back his trust, especially now that he knows she could have prevented his brother’s death. As the impatience rises through Killian like the high tide, Emma makes the prompt decision to tell him a limited truth. Enough to satisfy him, not enough to ruin the future completely.

“Like I said, my name is Swan. I ended up in Neverland after falling through a portal.” She keeps her voice steady and even, careful to sound as truthful as possible. 

“What kind of portal?” Emma bites her lip, and squeezes her eyes shut. 

“A time-travel portal.” 

Maybe it’s because he believes her, or maybe he thinks that she’s too unhinged to try anything crazy, but he drops his sword. He examines her through narrow eyes. 

“Time-travel. You expect me to believe that?” 

“I know it sounds crazy, but you have to trust me!” she urges. 

“I don’t have to do anything.” His grip tightens on his sword, but he doesn’t aim at her quite yet. “Go on.”

“I’m from...the really far off future. I was talking to the Killian Jones that I know when the portal opened, but I’m the only one that fell through. You were the last thing I saw and I think that’s how I ended up here. When I saw the  _ Joll-”  _ she hesitates. “The  _ Jewel,  _ I realized that you were on the island. I knew if I sailed with you back to Misthaven that I would be one step closer to getting home. In my world, you and I are close. Really close! I don’t know, it’s complicated with you and I.” 

Killian’s jaw twitches. He’s looking at the air just beside her head, an internal war raging within his mind. She can see it in the way he’s torn. He wants to trust her, he really does. But he doesn’t know her, at least not this Killian. Still, he can’t deny that something was there between them, not after what happened last night at the waterfall. 

“Prove it,” he says quietly. 

“How?” 

“Tell me something that only I would know, something that I haven’t told anyone.” 

There’s not much she doesn’t know about Killian, but so much that this Killian hasn’t lived through yet. What is she supposed to tell him?  _ Well, you’re about to meet the love of your life and  then have to watch her die. Then you’ll start your fruitless quest for vengeance, leading a  life of anger and hatred. _

“You were abandoned,” she suddenly remembers. “Just like me. Your father left you on a ship with your brother, and sold you into slavery.” 

Emma watches as Killian’s eyes fill with tears again, as if the sudden memory has only added to the pain. The frenzy in his eyes reaches the tipping point, a growl pouring from between his clenched teeth. He brings both hands to grip the handle of the sword, aims it where her heart beats, and trembles. 

“I should kill you,” he bites out. 

“I wouldn’t blame you for trying, but I won’t go down without a fight,” Emma answers in an even voice. “Put the sword down, Killian. Your brother wouldn’t want this for you.” 

The battle rages within him, his anger the storm that threatens to sink his good heart, his good form. The bitterness raining down on him as tears on his cheeks, his hands red from gripping the blade. Emma prepares for the worst, ready to go up against Killian for a second time. Thoughts fly through her head. Maybe since Killian has less sword experience, she’d be able to best him again. But he’s so angry, she doubts he would hold back. 

Then, as if he’s sailed into the eye of the storm, he gasps out a breath and drops the sword. The boiling anger simmers down into exhaustion. 

“You said we’re close?” he asks, looking utterly drained. “Where you’re from, that is.” 

Emma’s eyes dart at the weapon on the ground, then back at the beaten man before her. 

“We were, but honestly, I don’t know what I’ll find when I make it back.  _ If  _ I make it back.” 

Killian licks his lips, murky gaze fixed on empty nothingness beside her. This isn’t how Emma wanted this to pan out. Wanting to fade into an unsure, mythical memory in Killian’s mind was the whole reason she pretended to be the Swan Princess to begin with. Now that she’d shared so much with him, who knows what Killian will be like when she makes it back to Storybrooke? 

“Admiral!” Killian calls out, loud enough that his voice resonates across the rest of the ship. Within moments, the officer is entering the room, ready to receive orders.

“Aye Captain?” 

Killian blinks, eyes narrowing in confusion. He is only a Lieutenant. Then again, now with Liam’s passing, Killian  _ is  _ next in the line of succession, making him Captain of the  _ Jewel of the Realm.  _ Emma knows this is where it all begins, his path to piracy and vengeance. Remembering himself, he shakes his head and straightens his back.

“Please take the princess to the brig and see that she stays there for the remainder of our voyage.” 

“But sir, don’t you think that-” the admiral begins to speak, but Killian lifts a silencing hand. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that men on this ship question their captain’s orders.” Killian steps right into the man’s face, teeth bared. “Oh, that’s right. They  _ don’t.  _ If you know what’s good for you, sailor, you’ll do as your told without arguing.” 

With a scoff, the admiral grabs Emma’s wrists with rough hands, only tightening his clasp when she tries to shake him off. As she’s dragged away, Emma catches one last glance at Killian, but she knows. 

Lieutenant Killian Jones is gone, and Dread Pirate Jones has taken his place. 

 

///

 

The trip home takes three days more, and each of them Emma spends sitting in the damp, cold prison of the ship. She has hope that Killian will one day forgive her because as much as he hates her, he has sent her down extra blankets and extra dried meat. That’s the extent of his compassion, though, because until the ship drops anchor, all she can do is lie on her cot and think about a plan to get back home. She’s asleep when the ship drops anchor.

“Wake up, lass!” a brute voice calls at her. Emma startles awake, clenching her fist for a fight. She relaxes only slightly, seeing that the man is one of Killian’s crewmen. His naval uniform is gone, dirty cotton clothes hanging off of him instead. From the brig, she hasn’t been able to hear much what happens on the deck, in Killian’s quarters, or even in the galley. But if she has to guess, she’d bet that Killian, and the rest of the ship, have gone pirate.

“What is it?” she asks, voice rough from lack of use. Emma pushes herself up, and makes her way to the bars of her cell. 

“We’ve dropped anchor. Captain wants you off the ship as soon as he can get you out of his sight. No funny business.” 

Tired from traveling, Emma complies, knowing it’s more grief than it’s worth to try to fight. And for what? To teach these pirates some manners? Not likely. 

Killian is leaning against a barrel when she makes it up on deck. He’s definitely one step closer to being Hook now, sporting an entire garb of black leather and kohl beneath his eyes. Yanking her hands away from the man holding her, she approaches Killian. He stays completely still, save for his hand moving down to rest on his blade. 

“If it’s no trouble,  _ highness, _ ” he says in a rude tease, “I’d like if you could get out of my sight and off of my ship. You’d do well to never let me see you again.” 

Emma speaks softly. “One day, when I make it back home to my time, I hope that the pirate I know will not have changed. I know you can still be you.” 

Killian inches forward a bit. 

“The me that you know?  He’s gone. So when you go back to wherever your home is, don’t expect any warmer welcome than a knife to your throat.” 

Her Killian’s face flashes in her mind, the soft, warm way he looked at her, his confession of passion in the caves of Neverland, the hope birthed in his eyes when he saw her that day in New York. With great pain does Emma realize that he’s right. 

Those things - that  _ man _ \-  is probably gone. 

So without another word, Emma spins on her heels and walks down gangway. Just as she steps onto the dock, she takes one last look at Killian, rough and ragged. 

It’s true, she realizes. He really is a pirate. 

The moment she’s entirely off of the ship, a wave of magic explodes in front of her. Her vision is hazy from the bright light that burst from the blast, and she gasps. It looks like the same portal that brought her to this place. Emma is powerless to resist the familiar pull the magic has on her. 

She really does try to think of home as she falls into the swirling orange energy, but the last thing she sees before the opening closes behind her is Killian racing toward her. Her name is on his lips, his hands trembling with the need to save her. 

But she’s already gone. 

  
  


///

 

The portal drops Emma in front of a dirty tavern. It’s night now, people bustling around her without being even remotely aware that a woman just fell from the sky.

Well, it’s certainly not Storybrooke, Maine. And if she had to guess, based on the last thing she saw, Emma would guess that somewhere nearby, she’d be able to find Killian Jones. She doesn’t know how much time has passed since she last saw him. For her, it’s only been seconds. For him, though, it could have been hundreds of years. The good news, though, is that she seems to have caught him either before or after he spent hundreds of years on Neverland plotting revenge. The last place she wants to end up is that terrible island with an angry pirate as her only help. 

Getting up from the muddy ground, Emma sees that her white dress from Neverland is now a filthy grayish brown color, but at least she still has her modern clothes, including her favorite red jacket. For now, she’ll use what she has left in her satchel to purchase herself a new dress, something less...princessy. Pushing open the door of the pub, Emma scans the room. 

She doesn’t see Hook anywhere...Until she does. 

He’s sitting at a table near the back, rolling what she bets are loaded dice. He has women on either side of him, but he doesn’t seem to be noticing the way their hands roam across his chest and back. A bitter taste forms in Emma’s mouth at the sight of it. 

Not wanting to cause a scene, Emma works her way up to the bar and sits at the counter. She asks the barmaid for some clean clothes (“I’m a barmaid, not a seamstress. ” to which Emma replies “Yeah, but you’re wearing clothes. I’ll pay you for anything you can give me.”) Once she changes in the closet, Emma runs her fingers through her messy hair and tries to cover her face with it. 

She’ll wait until Killian leaves, or is at least alone, before confronting him. 

It takes a few hours, and half a tankard of rum, before one of Killian’s wench’s whispers something in his ear that makes him lick his lips. Emma can see his eyes darken from across the room. He saunters upstairs first, while the wench prepares some drinks to take up with her. 

Perfect! If Emma can get up there before the other woman does, she might be able to talk to him, ask him what time this is. With any luck, Rumplestiltskin will be alive and he can help her create a time-traveling spell to get back home. 

There’s a few bedrooms above the bar, but only one with the door shut. Emma takes a deep breath, then raps her knuckles three times against the door. 

“By all means, darling, don’t be shy. Come on in.” Yep, definitely Killian Jones. 

Bracing herself for the worst, and reminding herself why she’s here, Emma turns the knob and pushes the door open. She gasps. She isn’t sure quite what she expected to find when she entered the room, but she knows it certainly isn’t the sight before her. 

Killian Jones lays on the bed, moonlight dripping from the window onto his completely naked body. The only thing he wears is his brace and hook, along with a dropped jaw. 

“Bloody hell.” 


	3. The Dark One

Emma prides herself on being one of the strongest women she knows, save for her mother and maybe Regina. In the face of trouble, she always does what she needs to do to keep the ones she loves safe. She’s defeated a dragon, bested a giant, and managed to save her son from the nefarious Peter Pan. She’d like to think that there aren’t many foes she can’t handle, which is why she’s utterly shocked to find that seeing Captain Hook in the nude has made her knees weak.

There’s a moment of shocked stillness, where neither of them utters a single sound, and Emma can only hold her heavy eyes on his form. He doesn’t move to cover himself, but only waits for her to react first. Without any candles lit, the only source of light in the room comes in from the window, drenching Killian in moonlight. It catches on his skin, highlighting the muscles along his chest and arms. Half of the man is all shadows, making the parts of him that are illuminated even more lustrous.

She takes one peek between his firm legs, then immediately scolds herself. The image is still burned in her mind as she turns her head away.  He’s certainly an impressive specimen... _all_ of him.  

“You’re naked,” is all she says. 

“And you’ve had brighter observations,” he replies, voice sounding a bit choked. Emma hasn’t figured out if he’s still mad at her - she’s sure he is - but he’s far too vulnerable right now to do anything other than tread lightly. She spins on her heels, and glues her eyes to the wall. 

“Maybe you should cover up, or something.”

“Maybe you don’t actually want me dressed. Maybe this is exactly the way you want me.”  

She scoffs, but it comes out like a nervous laugh. Emma hears his footsteps treading across the room with each word. The way he nears her doesn’t feel predatory like she expected, and instead reminds her of the way a person simply walks down the street. It’s the lack of clarity in his motives that has her heart racing in anxiousness. When he’s behind her, she can feel his warmth, his aura. 

For a moment, it seems like he’s going to reach out and grab ahold of her. Her muscles refuse to move. She wants to tear away, yet she cannot find the strength to flee from this man. From the corner of her vision, she sees him drop a hand beside her and snag his leather pants laying beside her feet.  She isn’t sure if she’s relieved or disappointed to find that his touch wasn’t for her. 

“Tell me, Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Emma gives him a moment to slip his clothing on, then turns back to look at him. He sits on the edge of the bed, elbows leaning on his knees. While his voice had sounded polite enough, if not a bit cautious, his gaze is harsh.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen me last?” she responds, not sure what the answer to his question is. Killian hesitates, eyes slanting to the right as he thinks back. 

“Nearly twenty years, give or take.”

“You don’t look like you’ve aged a day.” But he does look like he hasn’t slept in centuries. 

Killian is quick to make sure Emma knows that this is not a conversation between friends. 

“I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something, so if you could please enlighten me as to why are you here? Have you not ruined my life enough?” 

Emma flinches. That hurts, but she supposes she deserves it. If there had been another way to save Liam, she would’ve jumped at the opportunity, but who knows what kind of effects it could have had. It isn’t a risk she was willing to take. Part of her hopes that someday she’ll discover she made the right choice after all.

She opens her mouth to form some sort of answer when a busty woman with wild hair bursts. Two tankards are slung on her fingers over her shoulder and an entire bottle of rum swings at her hips.

“Oh Captain _,_ I’m bac-” the woman starts, but her breath stops in her throat at the sight of Emma. “Who are _you?”_

“I just need to talk to him for a minute, I’ll be out of your hair in just a-”

“Don’t you know _I’m_ his company for the night. You can find work elsewhere,” the woman says, lowering the mugs from her shoulders and shifting her weight to give Emma an angry glare. “It’s rude to try to take someone’s clientele.”

Killian snorts at this, his lips lifting just slightly at the corners. Emma turns on her heels to look at him. 

“I’m glad you think this is so funny,” she mutters to him. The pirate only shrugs with a half chuckle. He meets eyes with his nighttime companion. 

“I wouldn’t sleep with this woman for all the gold in the world,” he tells her, nudging his head at Emma. It’s her turn to scoff. If the man knew even remotely how much his future self had once pined after her, how hot his gazes were on his skin, he’d be biting his tongue. But Emma has endured this for long enough.

“Look, you can enjoy all of Captain Hook’s talents another night, but I need to talk to him about something important,” Emma explains. 

“But there won’t be another night!” the girl whines. 

“The mood is ruined, anyhow, darling. Perhaps another time.”  Hook doesn’t sound too disappointed, though. His expressionless face doesn’t even flicker with chagrin as the bar wench goes storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“What did she mean there won’t be another night?” Emma asks, sitting down in a chair across the bed.

“I’m leaving for Neverland tomorrow.” Emma considers this, suddenly glad she fell into this land just in time before Hook left for hundreds of years.

“Does that mean that Milah...?” She regrets asking it the minute the words leave her mouth. Killian’s head snaps up, and if looks could kill, she’d be out of existence.

“Five years ago,” he admits. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You probably already knew.”

Emma’s eyes squeeze shut at that low blow, but she takes it. 

“And you’re going to Neverland to, what, collect Dreamshade to use on Rumplestiltskin?”

Hook sneers, then lays back on his bed. He lays his head over his right arm and basks in the ocean of moonlight.

“There’s nothing you don’t know, isn’t there?” he replies, his bravado falling short because of his exhaustion. “How about you answer some of my questions, lass?”

“What do you want to know?” Emma asks cautiously.

“How long has it been since we last saw each other?”

Emma thinks back to the final time she laid eyes on Killian, his hand outstretched to grab her from falling into the portal. That was _her_ Killian, the one that always wanted to protect her. Even if he was only there for a moment, Emma is sure that man was the man she knows.

“A few hours maybe? Most of it was spent here waiting for you to get alone.” If he’s surprised to find how little time it’s been, she doesn’t show it.

“Why would you do that? To kill me?”

“Get over yourself. I just didn’t want to cause a scene.”

“Is anyone else I know going to die, or are you just going to continue to lie to me?”

“No,” Emma says sincerely. “At least no one that you’ve mentioned to me. It was just Liam and Milah.”

“How far in the future are you from?" 

This question makes Emma hesitate. Maybe telling his younger self would’ve been a bad idea, but now that he plans to go to Neverland, there’s a chance he’ll understand their age difference.

“What year is it now?”

“1867.”

“Then about a hundred and fifty years, give or take.”

Killian’s eyes widen. Now that, he probably hadn’t been expecting. A battle rages within him, and Emma has learned to recognize the signs. He shakes his head, softly, like his own thoughts are fragile. He sits up on the bed, swinging his legs over the edge and gripping his knees with his hands. The distance between his brows becomes nonexistent.

“Killian,” she says, calling his gaze up. “Look, I just want you to know that if I could’ve saved your brother and known that you both would’ve been okay,  I would have in a heartbeat. But the future is so unpredictable. I mean, saving Liam might’ve only led you guys on the path to a crueler death. Who knows? Maybe you both would have died and then you would’ve never met Milah and never met me and-” Emma freezes. There are implications in the last words she has spoken, implications she doesn’t want Killian to know. He seems to be replaying them in his mind, over and over. It’s when she turns her head to hide her blush that Killian laughs humorlessly. 

“You’re in love with me, aren’t you?” His voice is quiet, the soft volume of a sea shanty a sailor sings to his child. Emma rolls her eyes, though it isn’t very convincing.

“It’s the other way around, actually.” She pauses. “Or at least it _was,_ the last time I saw you. I don’t know what you’ll be like when I get home, if you’ll be there at all.”

Killian runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He refuses to look at her, his eyes darting around to study everything in the room that isn’t her.

“I had quite foreseen it to be something like that,” he mutters to himself. Emma isn’t sure what to tell him. She doesn’t exactly think that letting him know that she’s broken his heart on more than one occasion will help lighten the situation.

And then he does something that is so very surprising, yet so very _Killian._

He trusts her.

“Alright, I believe you.” He nearly sounds surprised with himself as the words leave his lips, but after a moment, he nods in confirmation with scrunched eyebrows. “Much against my better judgement, but I believe you. Though what you’ve just told me doesn’t explain exactly what you need from me.”

He’s right, but right now, he’s just about as clueless as she is. She hadn’t planned on making it far past the bedroom door without Killian kicking her out or trying to kill her again. Much of her plotting was just thinking of ways to get Killian to believe her. Now that he does, Emma isn’t sure what step is next on the path home.

As quickly as she can, she tries to backtrack. The pirate across from her raises a brow as her own scrunch together in concentration. In order to make it back home, she needs some sort of time-travel spell, though it might be easiest to simply recreate Zelena’s portal. In order to cast the spell, she’ll need magic, something she doesn’t have anymore. Even with the Wicked Witch dead, Emma’s magic is still lost from her forever, so she needs to find someone who does have magic. The only person she can think of is Rumplestiltskin, and she’s sure there’s some sort of deal she can strike up with him.

“I need to find Rumplestiltskin,” she says slowly. A burning flashes through Killian’s eyes, narrow and skeptical.

“Well that would make two of us. How do you plan on getting there?”

“I know where his castle is.”

“How the bloody hell do you know about where the Dark One lives?” Emma thinks back to Henry’s book. If only she had it, she’d be able to show Killian what the future looks like and maybe see for herself how it has changed. But the last she saw the Storybook, it was in Killian’s possession.

“Like I said, I’m a princess and I’m from the future. I know a lot of things.”

“Why do you need the Crocodile anyways? He’s a sadistic demon who enjoys wielding power over those he torments. .”

“Don’t you think I know that? Look, I’ve dealt with Rumpelstiltskin enough to know about how to handle him. I just need him to recreate a spell for me so that I can get back home.”

“And what makes you think he’ll help you?”

Emma thinks for a minute. What’s something that she has that Rumple needs? She hasn’t exactly found love yet, so she can’t offer him the potion ingredient True Love. He hasn’t even trained Regina yet, so the words “Princess Emma” and “Savior” will be meaningless to him. Then it hits her.

“I have information about his son.” This catches Killian’s attention, his facade of indifference dissolving away as turmoil washes over his features.

“Baelfire? You know Baelfire?” Emma had really always  known that Killian held affection toward Neal, and about the resulting awkwardness when both men started fighting for the same woman, but seeing it in this Hook makes her feel warm. For the sake of not affecting the future, Emma decides to leave out the tiny detail that Neal is dead.

“I do, and I’m willing to bet that the Dark One will do anything I want if I can tell him about his son.” Emma rises to her feet, and grabs the bottle of rum that the wench left behind her. Pouring a shot of it into a glass, she hands it to him. “So what do you say pirate? Help me get there?”

Killian frowns at the glass, then accepts it anyways, downing the spicy contents with ease.

“As much I would _love_ to help you princess,” Killian says with a hearty helping of sarcasm, “I’ve no reason to find Rumplestiltskin without a way of killing him. That’s why I’m going to Neverland tomorrow. I need Dreamshade if I’m even going to stand a chance.”  Emma bites her lip. Should she tell him...? She knows it’ll be a lot harder to get to Rumple without him, and maybe the Dark One can even erase Killian’s memories.

“What if I told you there was another way to kill the Dark One and you can find it where I’m looking to go?” Killian’s eyes widened.

“Then I’d say you’d have an escort to help get you to the Dark One’s castle.”   

///

Emma knows just how much Killian hates trekking through forest, far from the salty air and fresh breeze. It’s even more apparent the way he sulks, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he journeys over fallen logs and uneven ground. She has to hand it to him, though. She really did not expect him to agree to help her so easily, yet after she told him about the Dagger, he had practically jumped to the occasion.

“So you seem quite eager to get home. Who are you trying to return to? A husband, perhaps?” Killian asks from behind her. Emma turns her face away so that he can’t see her roll her eyes. Some things never change.

“Nope, just trying to get home to my family.”

Killian is quiet for a few seconds after that.

“What’s your world like?” She’s never known him to be so open to conversation, especially after hurting him so badly.

“Survive long enough, and you’ll see for yourself. Though, the Killian from my time is still having trouble adjusting to his new life.”

“Why is he staying?” Killian picks up his pace so that he can walk beside her. His gaze is heavy on her, like she’s a book full of secrets that he’s been anxious to open for hundreds of years. “I’ve never known myself to remain in one place for long, certainly not long enough to _adjust_ anywhere.”

Emma’s feet stop walking for a second, the question striking an odd chord inside of her.

“You know, I don’t know. I don’t even think he’s taken the _Jolly_ out for a sail since we’ve gotten back, and that was awhile ago.”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Killian mutters.

“It certainly doesn’t. He’s keeping something from me, but I can’t get him to admit what it is.”

“Perhaps he’s afraid of how you’ll react once he tells you.”

They continue their journey without another word. Emma suspects Killian doesn’t say much to her because whatever conversation he could strike between them would only bring more discord. Both pirate and princess have had enough of that.

And while he’s a completely different man than the one she knows, he’s somehow exactly the same. The Killian Jones underneath all that leather and eye kohl is still with her, completely attune to her needs. He’s been walking beside her for miles now, so when her paces begin to slow, he sighs.

“You’re exhausted. When was the last time you slept?”

“I slept on the way back from Neverland,” she says, not admitting it was somewhat of a restless sleep.

“ _Twenty years_ ago _?”_

“For me, it’s only been less than a day.”

“Either way, we should probably build a camp out of the way and rest until morning. You’ll get at least a few hours of sleep before the sun rises at dawn.” Emma agrees, only because she knows she can’t be sleep deprived when she sees Rumplestiltskin tomorrow.

By a trickling creek, Killian lays out his coat for Emma to lay on. She gives the leather overcoat a wary glance, but is too tired to argue. Settling down onto it, she finds it’s softer than she anticipated, and big enough that she can lay on one half and fling the other half over her body. She’s not surprised when the leather smells like him, salty like a sailor, but she wasn’t expecting to be lulled somewhat intoxicated by the spicy aura. She burrows into the jacket a little more, seeking its warmth. It reminds her of Killian, for obvious reasons, and it’s almost enough to make her forget how far away from home she is.

Killian settles down not too far from her, leaning against the trunk of a tree. He faces his body away from her, maybe to give her privacy, maybe so that he doesn’t have to look at her. Without his jacket on, he looks less like a pirate and more like a man who misses ocean spray. The puffy black shirt he wears shows just enough chest hair to catch her attention, with a couple stolen necklaces dancing between his collarbones. It’s not the first time Emma has caught herself staring at him. She hates to admit it, but he’s one of the nicest sights she’s seen since she’s gotten here - especially when she found him laying bare in his room just a few hours ago.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she says, voice mumbled by his jacket.

“You’ve done a lot to elicit an apology. You’ll have to be more specific than that, Swan.”

Emma turns onto her side so she can see him a little better. His eyes are shut, arms resting on his knees.

“Walking in on you.”

“Bursting into my room while I was in a state of undress is the least of your offenses against me,” he says. “Believe me.”

Emma grabs her leather satchel, and lays it under her head. The relationship between her and Killian is too fragile right now to have a real conversation. It’s taking a lot in him, she’s sure, to make this journey with her. He wouldn’t even be here if Emma hadn’t told him of the dagger.

She did, though, conveniently forget to mention to him the implications of killing the Dark One with a dagger. There is no way in hell Killian would be here now if he knew that using the dagger would turn him into the Dark One himself, not to mention, the improbability of him actually managing to steal it without Gold noticing. With any luck, she could convince Rumplestiltskin to erase Killian’s memories of everything related to her. It would keep him safe.

The moon still trickles its light down over the forest as the silence rests on them like a blanket. Killian has dozed off enough that his breathing is even and slow. His face, which had been contorted in pain since they started their trek, was now peaceful. Seeing him so vulnerable made her miss her own Killian Jones. Which was _stupid,_ because even though she cared for his safety and happiness, there was no reason she should _miss him._  

But still, she does care for him, more and more it seems as the hours pass. She’s become attuned to his needs, his small behaviors that would’ve gone unnoticed a year ago, but somehow catch her eye even in this darkness. Like the way he sleeps. Peaceful as his face might be, his body is slightly trembling, a shiver from the cold.

“Killian,” she calls out. He doesn’t stir, save for the slight twitch of the tips of his ears at the sound of her voice. When she tries calling out his name again, he still remains under the veil of sleep. The poor man has probably been up for almost an entire day, no wonder his body needs so much sleep.

Wrapping the jacket around her shoulders, Emma rises to her feet. Dew has already begun to form on the ground, a patch of moss a soft cushion beneath her toes as he moves over to him. She doesn’t quite know why she’s doing this, but she takes ahold of Killian’s shoulders and lowers him as gently as she can from leaning against the tree to the ground. Instead of waking, he simply makes himself more comfortable by turning onto his side. Then, she drapes the jacket over his shoulders and lays down beside him. She’s far enough away that his breathing is only the slightest trace of breeze on her eyelashes, but close enough that their bodies are sharing warmth.

He really is beautiful, especially like this. Memories of home fade into her mind as she closes her eyes. Thoughts of Killian sharing late night shots of rum with her. Images of his smile, the warmth in his salty sea eyes. Never before has she thought of a man so much, especially one laying beside her. Her mind slips away to think of her son, her parents, but it’s different somehow. She’s almost certain that her family will be waiting for her when she gets home. But Killian? Maybe the Killian she knows is already gone.

Exhaustion seems to have ruined her self control, because she reaches her hands to caress his cheeks. Just as her fingers nearly brush against his auburn stubble, the sleeping pirate grunts a little bit. Emma manages to snatch her hand back before Killian’s eyes flutter open. He flinches the second his vision falls on her, but then relaxes.

“You were shivering,” she says, feeling a bit embarrassed. He nods in response, a frown slowly forming on his face. If he’s uncomfortable, Emma knows he won’t say so, because this man will not openly embrace his true feelings until absolutely forced to.

God, why did she think _laying next to him_ would be a good idea? She jerks away from him, squirming away as quickly as she can create the distance.

“This was cruel of me,  I’m sorry. I’ll give you your space and just move over ther-”

But he grabs her hand. He doesn’t tug her back down, but he gets that look in his eye that he always has right before he says something important. Rather than settling back down, Emma sits beside him at a safe distance and allows him to hold her hand. Entwining their fingers, a softness glazes his features as he examines her.

“I’m sorry for making you sleep in the brigg and for trying to kill you,” he admits softly. The heaviness of his tone makes it difficult for Emma to breathe. He’s even closer than he was before, eyes locked onto hers.

“I never thought I’d actually see the day when Captain Hook would apologize for something,” she responds with a nervous chuckle.

“Would you just let me talk?”

Emma’s mouth snaps shut. Her eyes fall back onto him, and she can tell he’s struggling with himself, a battle raging within his being with different sides waging war against the others. She knows it’s a fight to do the honorable thing, and as much as she wants to tell him that she doesn’t deserve any of his apologies, she complies with his demand and lets him speak.

“It’s hard to imagine what it would be like if I were in your position, and sometimes I can scarce tell if you’re actually telling me the truth. For all I know, you could be leading me into a trap. But then there are these moments, like the one by the waterfall all those years ago. Like this one we’re having now. My logic becomes at odds with my intuition, and I begin to think if it was me trying to get home from Neverland, I probably wouldn’t have toyed with the future either.” His focus had been fluttering around, watching anything and everything that wasn’t her. He takes a deep breath and meets her gaze, ocean eyes so heavy Emma can hardly keep looking at him. “So as much as the loss of my brother absolutely destroyed me, I can’t bring myself to blame you completely.”

He releases her hand just long enough to gesture for Emma to lay down beside him once more. She settles back down, shifting her an arm underneath her head. A chill sails through the air and brushes against her cheeks, causing her to shift closer to Killian.

“Then what makes me different from Rumplestiltskin?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Rumplestiltskin killed your love and now your entire life is dedicated to getting vengeance. How are you able to forgive me when you can't forgive him?” She expects the question to stump him, but he has his answer immediately. 

“The Dark One killed Milah because of the evil that consumed his heart. He murdered her in a fit of rage, wanting to exact revenge against the woman he could not satisfy and to watch the man she fled to crumble at the sight of it.” Emma can see each memory piercing his heart, the man almost visibly breaking before her. She allows him a moment to grieve, and is almost shocked when his demeanour takes a sudden change. His eyes are on her, and they speak words that Emma isn’t sure she knows the meaning of. 

“But with you it's more complicated. I've weathered the ache of losing Liam for nearly twenty years now, and I know it's never going to go away. Living with that pain has made it difficult to imagine any sort of happy future."

Emma doesn't know where Killian is going with this. She studies the intricacies of his face, taking in the words he speaks while letting the lines on his face tell their own stories. 

He meets her gaze for a moment, then turns his eyes towards the stars. Only a few constellations are visible through the thicket of the trees above them, but they seem to calm him more. Since the sea isn't around to ease his heart, Emma wonders if he's searching for the second best thing.

"But then I realized," Killian continues. "That you've seen the future, _my_ future. You know enough to let a man die so that the Killian Jones you know can live the way he has been. He must have a pretty marvelous life if you want to protect it."

Emma turns onto her own back to look at the stars. They're brighter here in the Enchanted Forest than they are in Maine, but they're the same clusters of stellar luminance nonetheless. The same bright orbs in their neat lines, a beacon of hope that soon she will return home.

Wherever home was. 

"It wasn't all for you," Emma admits. "It mostly was. I've read a bunch of stories about how changing the past can ruin the present. I kept picturing the thousands of different ways it could destroy you. If something happened to you...” 

In that moment, his eyes border the area between hopeful and cautious. It’s even more frightening that she’s probably looking back at him with the same complicated expression. “And I wasn’t lying when I said you and I are close. For a man who spent his entire life on sea, you really embedded yourself into the lives of everyone we know. Changing your life would not only alter your present, but the present of everyone I love. Like my son." 

She notices a different quality in his expression as he pulls the jacket up over his shoulder. The mean hardness that once made him look like a shadow gone as he lights up. 

"Is he..?"

"Yours? No, he's not. But you're very good to him and he likes you a lot. You helped save him.  Without you, I don't know if I would've been able to bring him back home safely."

This sits on Killian for a moment. His lips part like there are words that want to speak, but they remain caught in his throat. Emma can see the images unfold in his mind of him acting as the hero. He’s different in that way, she supposes. The Killian back in Storybrooke would deny being a hero as soon as the suggestion was even uttered.

"I'm surprised you're telling me all this," he admits with a weak chuckle.

"I probably shouldn't be, but I just wanted you to understand why I did what I did. If there's a way I can make it right, trust me, I'll look for it." 

“Well if we’re being honest, perhaps I should be forthright with you, Swan.” Emma’s heart skips a beat. Upon instinct her hand slowly reaches for the knife she hid under her satchel. She wonders if he’s about to double-cross her, if this whole thing has been a trap and he hasn’t forgiven her after all.

“You said that in the future, I hold a certain affinity toward you?” he asks. Emma nods, drawing her creeping fingers back from her weapon. She avoids his gaze, but Killian waits until he’s met hers before continuing. “Perhaps I trust you, much against my better judgement, because a part of me, even after all this time, is captivated by you.” 

There it is. That heavy stare that always unravels her senses with its blend of forget-me-not azure and something glimmering and smooth that she always thought to be the deep sea in his soul. It creates a pull between them, a tender longing to graze her lips on his and taste the sea salt on his tongue.  

But she doesn’t. Instead, she gives a somewhat awkward smile and forces herself to look back at the sky. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Killian open his mouth, then shut it. Allowing her eyelids to slide shut, she hears the rustle of the jacket as he turns onto his side. Her heart still races as he makes himself comfortable, and she wonders if either of them will get any sleep. 

///

In the brief moments before she wakes, she thinks about what she'd like to do with her day. Her parent's pantry is in desperate need of a grocery run, and if she decides to go today, she can stop by the library and look at apartment listings in New York.

She snuggles into Killian's warm body, reveling in the feeling of the way their legs tangle together beneath his leather jacket. Her cheek presses against his chest, and she smiles when she can hear his heartbeat as a slow pounding in her ear.

Reality hits her like a jolt of electricity, causing her to flinch against the man she is sleeping on. She isn't tucked safely into her bed in her parent's loft, she is curled up against a pirate in the middle of the Enchanted Forest nearly a hundred and fifty years in the past. She will not be grocery shopping or looking at apartment listings today. She will be tracking down the Dark One to make yet another deal with him to get her back home before she makes the entire timeline implode. 

In the few quiet moments that Emma wonders what she should do, she realizes that not only is she curled up against Killian, but he seems to be completely wrapped around her. His arms are locked tightly around her waist, fingers tangled in her hair.

"Hook," she whispers. To her dismay, the pirate doesn't wake. She watches in panic as she grumbles a few incoherent complaints, then shifts to burrow to the soft space in between her breasts. Rolling her eyes, Emma nudges his shoulder. "Hook, wake up."

"Bloody hell, let a man sleep." 

"It's dawn, and we don't have time for you to enjoy your beauty sleep all freaking day."

Emma can just feel his blood run cold in his veins as his sensibility returns. He freezes against her, remaining still to take a few moments to reorient himself. Then, as if she had stuck a burning rod against his side, he jerks away so quickly that he almost runs into the tree beside them.

"Apologies, lass," he murmurs with a hitch in his throat. It's uncertain if it's shame that has wrapped around his heart, or simply frustration at himself for latching onto the woman that allowed his brother to die. 

Emma had thought that after last night they could be on better terms, but examining him now, she isn't sure. She wants to say something, maybe admit that she was probably the one that cuddled into him first, but the sound of nearby voices interrupts her thoughts.

"Ah, lads, I think I see me a wildflower in morning bloom." 

Emma swivels around and fights the urge to groan at the sight of three rufian men. They wear clothes that are nearly in rags, stained with unidentifiable fluids, yet their fingers are ornate with lavish rings. They peer down at Killian, seeming to take notice of his jewelry, especially the necklace worn around his neck.

Emma can smell them from where she stands. It's probably been weeks - even months - since any of them have bathed, because they reek of body odor, alcohol, and traces of other things like vomit and rotting food. Killian seems to have noticed as well, because his nose wrinkles and he stares back at their new friends with disgust. 

"You'd be wise to plunder elsewhere," he says darkly. "We've nothing for you." 

"I don't know, mate, the jewels on your finger would say otherwise," the biggest one speaks. Judging by the amount of jewelry he wears and his brute size, Emma figures he's the leader of the three. Killian clenches his fingers around his sword, a move to keep them out of sight. "At the very least, if you refuse to give us your baubles, we can take something else. Like your lass. I'm sure you won't miss her." 

Emma snatches the rusty blade from beneath her satchel and launches herself at the filthy man. The others fire into motion as she brings her blade to graze the bastard's throat. 

"That wasn't a good move, missy," he hisses between his teeth. With a quick glance to her sides, she takes note of the other men, who have their own cutlass and sabre at the ready. Killian has her back though, and has his sword pointed at the man nearest to him.

"Pissing me off wasn't a good move," she bites back. "You make one wrong move and I'll make sure you'll never enjoy another _wildflower_ ever again."  

A beat passes while the man figures out what she means, but Emma would rather show him. Jumping onto her left foot, Emma hitches and knees the cretin as hard as she can in his crotch. He buckles in on himself, and she takes the opportunity to kick him in the stomach. Stumbling backward, the bandit groans. His moans of pain turn into growls of rage. 

Just as she turns to finish him off, one of his friends thrusts his cutlass at her. She parries with her knife as best she can, but she's hardly equipped to block his blows. If she wants to win, she'll have to rely on her strength and wit.

It's moments like these she wishes she still had her magic, but she gave it up to save Hook, and she's prepared to do it all over again. 

But she's taken down all sorts of men - mostly skips and perps - without her magic dozens of times. She can do this.

She stays on her toes as the fight rages on, jumping and ducking whenever her opponent's blade gets too close for comfort. Adrenaline races through her blood, loosening her muscles and pulsing energy throughout her entire being. Her knife almost pierces the skin of her foe, when she hears Killian cry out.

Kicking her bandit's knee, she whirls around to see Killian back up against a tree, bested by the other two thieves.

A battle cry beside her reminds her she she hasn't finished with her fight, but Killian needs her help and he needs it now.

God damn it, why did she think it was a good idea to aggravate the men who outnumbered them?

Taking a calculated risk, Emma allows her opponent to near her much too close for comfort, and as soon as he is close enough, she takes her chance and socks him with tremendous strength in the nose. It is powerful enough to send him plummeting to the forest floor, out cold. The strong voice of her battle instincts tells her to snatch the cutlass off of the unconscious man, so she does, shoving her knife in her belt where she can grab it if she needs it. 

Emma's anger rages as she marches up to the tree. Killian's eyes flicker with relief for only a moment, but then he is glaring at his foes yet again. 

"Let him g-" 

"Ah ah ah," croons the brutes' leader. He steps in front of her, raising his sabre in between the swell of her breasts. Licking his lips approving, he says, "As much as I love a woman with a sword in her hands and glare in her eyes, I can't allow you to intervene." 

"I took down your pal over there, and I won't think twice about taking you down either." 

"Just say the word and you can take me right here in the forest. In the soft moss, against the tree, bent over that log over there. Your choice," he replies, tone laced with innuendo that sends nausea swelling in her stomach. Behind them, Hook snarls. "But then again, you did misbehave earlier, and we can't allow that." 

Saying the wrong thing could have fatal consequences for both her and Killian, so she does the only thing she can think of. She spits in the bandit's face. 

"Now lass, you shouldn't have done that," he drawls, swiping saliva from his cheeks. "Kill him." 

It all happens in a split second. Emma's heart jumps into her throat, her vision running red, as the blade at Killian's throat is pulled back in preparation to make a clean cut. Just as the blade swings into motion, she feels a familiar heat in her fingertips, a tingling sensation that reminds her of her instinct to protect. 

" _No_!" she bellows, the heat bursting from her fingers in the form of bright white light. An orb of powerful magic explodes from her palm, soaring through the air like a hurricane to launch the man aside. Killian's captor hits the ground with a thud, and for a brief moment, she and Killian stare at each other in amazement.  

"It would've been nice to know you have magic!" he admonishes. 

"It's been gone! I must have it back now that the witch who took it is dead," she explains in a rush. 

Turning to the last of the outlaws, the leader who was now trembling in his leather boots, Emma lifts her hands before her, allowing them to blaze with snow colored flames.

“I’m not a woman to be trifled with,” Emma announces. “So you’ll kindly drop the jewels you stole, and be on your way.”

The dastardly man slowly moves his quivering hand to the jacket of his pocket, and pulls out a ring strung on a necklace. Emma recognizes it as the ring that Killian wears around his neck under his shirt. The bandit throws the necklace down at Hook’s feet, and meets his eyes with a deadly glare. 

“You got lucky this time, pirate,” he sneers.

“No, _you’re_ the lucky one. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you while I had the chance.” He turns to leave, stepping over his unconscious friend, but Emma calls out in an authoritative voice, “Wait!”  

“Haven’t you humiliated me enough?” he grumbles, and the flames in Emma’s hand flare. 

“Have you all been traveling by foot?” she asks. 

“No.” 

“Well then, how have you been traveling?”

He doesn’t seem to want to answer, so Killian brandishes his sword, and with a hateful bite says, “You might want to answer the question, _mate._ ”

“A boat. A small little thing. Had to row it all the way here.” 

Emma nods with approval, and within seconds, the sickening man is out of sight. He leaves his friends without a word, and sprints into the thicket of the woods.

“Well Swan,” Killian begins, “I knew you a had a little pirate in you. Those men will be basking in their shame for the rest of their lives.”

His approval feels good in her chest, and it tugs her heart so that the only reaction she can muster is a pleased smile and a shrug. 

“Come on, we’re already behind schedule. We better hit the road before these goons wake up.”

///

The rowboat is where it was promised to be. It is indeed small, and Killian remarks that it looks much older and used than should be deemed safe for travel, but it’s better than walking. Some of the bandits’ things are still tucked under one of the benches in the rowboat, but the only thing that is of any use to them is a basketful of bread and cheese.

They eat in silence, nibbling at their meager meal to distract them from confronting whatever had transpired between them in the last couple days. Emma peers up at Killian, noticing that he looks more relaxed compared to yesterday, and less like he’d like to be anywhere else. 

“If I haven’t thanked you already, I do appreciate you coming with me,” Emma tells him honestly. Killian’s eyebrows shoot up, and genuine gratification flashes in his eyes for just a split moment, and then the mask is back. 

“I’m here because you said there was a way to kill the Dark One, that’s all,” he replies with a shrug. 

The boat floats along with the current of the small river as Emma wonders if she should try to spark up another conversation, maybe one that didn’t have to do with their tense relationship. But Killian seems to have built up a sturdy wall around himself, and she can’t help but build up her own in return. 

As she finishes the last of her bread, Emma reaches forward and grabs the oars, dropping them into the water at either side of her. Killian shakes his head, and reaches to take the paddles from her, but she swats his hand away. 

“You rowed the first time. Now it’s my turn.” 

“The first time?” 

“Back in Neverland. On the way to the ship from the island.” 

Killian leans back, eyebrows knitting in concentration as he remembers. His gaze softens as the memory sweeps over him. It was a simpler time, to be sure. Liam was still alive, he was still a naval lieutenant, and she was still hiding safely under her disguise of Swan Princess. For him it has been years. For her it’s been a mere few days.

“It was incredibly hot that day, and Liam insisted I row. I think he just liked seeing me struggle in front of a beautiful woman.” 

“It’s always hot in Neverland,” she comments, the easy nature of the chat easing some of the tension. “And if you were struggling, I couldn’t tell.” 

“I became a lieutenant when I was barely trained to be one. Liam hit a lucky break and insisted that I remain with him. It was hardly through my own merit.” Emma nods, unsure of what to say. “I think today was a testament that I still have some ways to go.” 

“Believe me, you’ll get there. You’ll have plenty of time to practice.” It’s a hint at his future, and he seems to appreciate it, because he gives her an honest smile. A small thing, but a definite upturn of his smooth lips. 

“What about you?” he says. “Where did you learn to wield a blade like that. I watched you fight, and I can’t say I’ve ever seen a woman fight like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Like the duel is child’s play.” 

Emma thinks back to their encounter with the land pirates. It was hardly child’s play. Emma didn’t know for sure if they would make it out alive. If her magic hadn’t kicked in...Gosh, who knows what could have happened. 

“Well you taught me some,” she admits. “My father filled in the blanks.”

“I taught you?”

“Initially, you didn’t know you were. You were too busy trying to kill me. I had to learn right then or else you would’ve run me through. After we became friends was when you taught me for real.” 

Killian pays attention to her as she says this, probably to make sure that it’s okay now. When she snickers at the end, he gives his own relieved chuckle.

“I take it things with you and I haven’t always been easy.” Emma shakes her head, pulling the rows towards her, then away. 

“Things with you and I have _never_ been easy, even after we stopped trying to kill each other.” 

There’s another hint of _her_ Killian when he smiles at her. Maybe it’s because underneath all the black leather, kohl, and flourish, he has always been the same man. The man who nuzzled his nose against hers by the waterfall, who respected her space after their passionate kiss in Neverland, who came to New York to save her, who fought for her even when life seemed to scream at him to give up. 

But he never did. And now she won’t either. It gives her hope because maybe, even if the timeline changes, he’ll still be the man she knows. The man she’s been torn about falling for. 

“Who do I become?” he asks after a moment of letting her think. “You have your magic now. I’m sure you can erase my memory once this is all over.” 

He trusted her against his better judgment, so maybe it’s time for her to trust him. 

“A hero, Killian. You become the man you wanted Liam to see. You’re brave when the shit hits the fan, and selfless, even when it’s easier to just take care of yourself. You’re patient with a group of people who were slow to accept your good heart, even though they did nothing but treat you cruelly, like you were incapable. But you proved to them you could do it, you proved to _me.”_  

His cheeks flare with a mix of embarrassment and emotion, but Emma doesn’t notice. She rows mindlessly as a pair of warm, familiar blue eyes light up in her memory. 

“You put me and my son before your own safety and happiness, even if it means breaking your heart to do it, and even though I never told you what that meant to me, I can tell you now that it meant a lot. Honestly,  you’re probably one of the best men I know.” She takes a deep breath when she realizes she’s been rambling. “And that’s who you become.”

They gaze at each other, and Emma can feel her heart in the back of her throat again. She lets herself forget for just a moment that she’s living lifetimes before her parents even will exist and instead lets the familiarity of Killian soothe the worry she’s been keeping within her. He bores at her the same way he did at the waterfall in Neverland, and last night lying together under his jacket. 

She knows what that look means. It means that if she lets him, he’ll kiss her.

And this time, he doesn’t wait for her to overthink it. He leans over the distance between their benches on their undersized rowboat, pauses to give her a moment to pull away if she absolutely doesn’t want this, and presses his lips to hers. 

Her senses are overwhelmed, but the first thing she tells herself to do is kiss back. Shaky hands immediately settle on his neck to keep her grounded. The gentle swaying of the boat, makes her dizzy, wanting more. She takes what he gives, doing her best to keep up in their sweet battle of lips and tongue. He nearly purrs when her fingers scrape through his scalp, and he drifts to sit in the bench beside her to give him better access to hold her close to him. 

She’s wanted this longer than she was ready to admit to herself, but now that it’s happening, now that she is tasting the spicy mix of rum and salt of his mouth, she wonders why she waited.

Any coherent thoughts are interrupted when he pulls away, only to lower to her neck. His scruff tickles the sensitive skin of her collarbone, contrasting with the harsh nips of his teeth on her sensitive skin. It elicits a soft sigh from her lips. 

He sounds utterly destroyed when he drops his head to the swells of her cleavage and whispers a ravaged, “ _Emma.”_

It’s that moment where it stops feeling _perfect_ and begins to just feels wrong.

Gentle hands reach to cup Killian’s cheeks, and urge him to break away. He’s the image of bliss in those few seconds, wearing a bright grin on his lips as he looks down at her. She can hardly remember a time when he’s looked so euphoric, which is why it absolutely kills her to say, “We can’t.”

The smile on his face drops immediately, and he backs up back to his side of the boat. Avoiding his eyes, which glower at her in a hurt disappointment, Emma takes the oars once more and resumes rowing. Killian remains frozen, at a complete loss for words. Eventually, he nods, but then thinks better of it. 

“Why not?” he asks, shaking his head. “If this is because you think I still hate you, I don’t. I never did! I never thought I’d be capable of letting go of my first love-” 

“Your Milah, until you met me,” she finishes for him.  The color from his face drains. “Killian this was hard enough the first time. Don’t ask me to do it again.” 

“What? Break my heart? Well, I hate to tell you, love, but that ship has sailed.” The words cut at her with their bitter tone. “But I know you don’t want you. I know you feel something, too.” 

Slamming the oars down, Emma bursts.

“So what if I do? I’m _moving_ Killian. As soon as I get home, I’m taking my son, and we’re leaving. I have to do what’s best for him!”

“What’s best for him, or what’s best for _you?”_  

Before she can answer, the ground begins to tremble, sending salty river water over the side of the boat. Killian sparks into action, yanking the oars from her and doing his best to keep the boat from capsizing. The quaking of the earth is too much, though, and before they can brace themselves, Emma and Killian are tossed into the lake. It’s then that Emma sees the cause of the tremors.

“It’s a time portal!”  she calls, her head bobbing in and out of the water as she tries to remain above the surface. 

“What do we do?!” Killian cries, trying his best to swim over to her as the river’s current picks up. They’ll be engulfed by the portal in a mere few moments. 

This is perfect, Emma thinks for a moment. If she falls through that portal, and thinks of Storybrooke, of the time she left, it’ll send her back home. Maybe then she’ll be able to ask Regina or Gold why these portals keep appearing randomly. Just as she’s about to stop struggling against the tide, catches a glimpse of Killian descending toward the vortex of magic just as quickly as she. She could bring him to Storybrooke with him, but then she would face the possibility of not being able to get him home, which could ultimately damage the future. She could just picture the past erasing itself and her reality changing before her very eyes.

“Come here!” she calls. His hook seems to make it more difficult to swim efficiently, but he barrels through the obstacle, using his legs to propel himself over to her. She reaches for his hand, which he welcomes. With linked fingers they descend toward the portal. 

“Think of Rumpelstiltskin!” she instructs. “Think of the Dark One’s castle, today, at this very time.” 

Killian nods in understanding, water dripping from his hair down his cheeks. 

They turn frightened eyes to the portal, and Emma swears she feels Killian’s hand squeeze hers as they fall through into the glistening darkness.


End file.
